


Mute - Chapter One

by SnowboundCathedrals



Series: Mute - Novel Teasers [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: original novel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowboundCathedrals/pseuds/SnowboundCathedrals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter one of my original novel-in-the-works Mute :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mute - Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of my novel-in-the-works entitled Mute, please enjoy :D

Chapter One - Brett

You know that feeling, where you know something should have been there. But it’s not. I know mine’s lost. I saw it taken away from me at the age of seven. Losing something so huge at such a small age can drive you into madness. Enough crazy to be locked up for the rest of your life. Enough sorrow to fill an endless void to the brim with tears. Enough anger to be able to rip the whole world into little pieces before the rage is gone. Or enough silence to put a library to shame. Nine years is a long time. Over double my life span since the accident. Losing him was just that hard.

I’ve had a huge fear of motor vehicles since then. Until I was nine I wouldn’t even get into the family car, not that we’re much of a family anymore. I still fear riding in cars, but I’m more at ease about it now. I just need to get out of the car on hourly intervals for a few minutes on car rides over an hour, like when we go to the family Christmas dinner in the city with grandma.

They put allot of work into stopping one person out of 8 billion from dying. For every time one person dies (About every three seconds) three babies are born (that’s a baby per second, the youngest person in the world was just born, congratulations little human!). So what’s the point of me staying here wasting oxygen for the important people? Like Ellen, or the Pope! But I’m still fighting along here, sword at the ready. Being a warrior in this evil unfair battle of life.

Three little pills. Every morning. Just to make sure I don’t jump off the small bridge into the creek on my way to the bus stop. Or jump off the roof of the High School on first break. Or drink some chemicals in science class. But they work. Make me about as happy as I can get myself to be.

“Brett! How much longer will you be? I still need to do my hair!” My seventeen year old sister, Carmen, yells from just outside the bathroom door. I hit the door lightly one time with the back of my hand. Meaning I’ll be one minute till I exit the lavatories in our household. I quickly style my hair messily atop my head in a somewhat ‘sexy’ manor before turning the door handle and exit the bathroom.

I take my towel clad self (it's strung under my armpits, hiding my chest and tummy. Hanging just above my knees.) I enter my room to get dressed. I get dressed in my normal black jeans and hoodie, (Today's selection, dark purple without any words or pictures on it. Classy.) I grab my iPhone and put it in my pocket, grabbing my book bag, one of those ones that hangs off of one shoulder, I unplug my laptop and slide it into the bag. Then grabbing some books and binders, shoving them into the other pocket. I go to head out the door, but stop to grab my pad of paper with a pen strung through one of the holes on the side. I head down the stairs, heading into the kitchen.

"Do you want something for breakfast?" My mom asks when I enter the kitchen. I open my pad and write 'No. I'll get something at school cafeteria.' She nods, heading over to the kitchen table. She pulls her wallet out of her purse and hands me a ten and five dollar bill. "Here, no need to pay for your own food all the time." She says. I nod and sign 'Thank you.' I've only bothered to learn a few simple words in sign language. Like Yes, No, Thank You, Hungry, etc.

Carmen comes down the stairs in a rush, grabbing something off the counter. I grab a water bottle from the fridge and quickly down two of my pills, I put one of the bottles in my backpack. It must be taken twice a day. So about fourth period is when I need to pop this one down.

After that I run out the door and catch up to my sister, who is about thirty feet away from the house. We fall into step beside each other, walking over the small bridge stretching over Hover Creek. A couple of Canadian geese are paddling around in the water. It’s almost November, they should be south by now. Stupid cold geese. We continue walking across the bridge, around the corner, and down the hill to the bus stop. There’s about seven other kids standing there waiting for the old lady driving the bus to arrive. She’s late by about twenty minutes every day. So us arriving fifteen minutes late according to the school board means we’re still ahead of time for the bus. She arrives at 7:37, three minutes ahead of her preferred time of arrival. Surprising for everyone standing here. The High schoolers head to their normal seats in the back, middle schoolers in the middle. And the little kids in the front. 

I plug my headphones into my phone and push the ear buds into my ears. I click on a song, a wonderful duet between Lady GaGa and R. Kelly talking about not using her mind or having her heart, but using her body for their own ways. The song begins to play and I gaze out the window. Looking at the forest and farm fields pass my window as we make our way into town, stopping at random times to pick up more students. 

We eventually get to Lark Creek Elementary, us always being the fourth and last bus to pull in. The little kids and middle schoolers get off to go into the school or onto the bus to take them to their school. This bus is known as the high school bus, lacking the past Lark Creekers of high school age to Port Beethoven Secondary School, which is about an hour away, or two towns south west. Lark Creek being the most northern public school with kids going to Port Bey (The name most give to school, because Beethoven is just way too long to say.)

One of my two best friends gets on the bus, Tiffany. She’s about as popular as you can get as a grade ten in Port Bey. It’s weird, because I’m about as unpopular as you can be. But I’m friends with Tiff, so you would think that people would try to be friends with me so they can get closer to Tiffany. But that’s not the case, and I’m fine with that, two friends is enough for me. I pull one earphone out when she sits down, so I can hear her gossip from anyone and anything that happens, everyone once and a while opening notes on my phone to type out an answer to one of her questions.

I have yet to figure out why the school is called Port Beethoven. This school wasn’t even here in Beethoven’s time, so he was never even in this part of the world. I guess it just sounded cool or something. 

I remember a clear moment in my memory, about three months after the accident. I had been home from the hospital for almost three weeks. I remember my mom crying, wishing it was me that was six feet under. That Bryce had more potential than me. I haven’t been able to trust my family since, other than Carmen. But I feel like she’s 95% done with me most of the time anyways.

The bus pulls up to the school and we exit onto the front lawn of Port Bey. We walk over to our normal meeting place, under a large Maple tree. Tiffany goes off to be with her other friends, leaving me to sit down at the base of the tree to wait for Dakota.

I gaze around the front lawn area as students’ mill about and buses drop more off, I see a boy with light almost white blonde hair going down almost to his shoulders. He is standing in a patch of sunlight, making him look very much like a Hollywood movie angel. He wanders around, looking slightly confused. Must be a new kid. Which makes my thoughts lead to Who in their right mind would move here? This is the definition of the middle of nowhere.


End file.
